


Willoughby & Sycamore

by bizzybee (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Free Agency, Other, Prose Poem, Symbolism, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: There's four things on the corner of Willoughby and Sycamore: a tree, a branch, a bird, a nest.They're crumbling away.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Willoughby & Sycamore

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for myself but y'all can read it if you want
> 
> This is specifically about religious trauma and the effects that historical and religious guilt can have on a person, and how hard it is to leave.

On the corner of Willoughby and Sycamore, an oak tree stands, tall and firm. In one of the branches of the oak tree on Willoughby and Sycamore, a bird's nest is built, frail and steady. In the bird's nest in one of the branches of the oak tree on Willoughby and Sycamore, a single bird rests, frightened and not free. 

The bird didn't build this nest, but she can't seem to leave. It's where she lives, but it doesn't quite feel like home. This nest is a legacy, built off of trials and tribulations, of religions that aren't true and families that aren't kind. But, she tells herself, if the nest isn't home, then what is? Her birds, her grandbirds, her great grandbirds all said it was their home, so maybe she just isn't trying hard enough to make it hers, too. 

The bird wants, desperately, to leave, but she also wants, even more desperately, to stay. What could be waiting for her in that big, open world? Past the comfort of the nest, it's unknowable. There may be horrors at home, but it's horror she knows. Isn't the evil you know supposed to be better than the evil you don't?

Slowly, though, the bird's heart is opening. She's seeing how the nest is slowly crumbling under the weight of the lies that have beat it down for generations. Leaving the nest is still frightening, but staying is growing even more so.

And, now, old friends who once lived in nests of their own are calling, calling for the bird to join them. _Maybe the world isn't so evil after all_ , the bird's heart whispers. _Maybe, the world can have good things, can have great things, can have awe-inspiring things._

She just has to be brave enough to find them.


End file.
